


let me (see the light)

by rewindmp3



Series: wipe your eyes [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort/Angst, M/M, brian & sungjin & yoo youngjae are also mentioned so like, tbh everyone besides markbum are only briefly mentioned but whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-07 20:24:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10368690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rewindmp3/pseuds/rewindmp3
Summary: shattered souls and what it takes to fix themor, in the dead of night, mark sees jaebum’s face illuminated by moonlight and wonders how he has possibly been so lucky





	

_∞_.

 

Jaebum saved him.

 

That’s the first thing Mark thinks when he wakes up in the middle of the night to a crack of lightning and a boom of thunder as raindrops beat relentlessly against the bedroom window. Somehow, through the storm, the moon is as bright as ever, illuminating Jaebum’s sleeping figure next to Mark. Jaebum looks so warm like this, so soft and relaxed, even as the lightning strikes flash in his face and the storm rages on.

 

Mark gently brushes the space between Jaebum’s eyebrows, now smooth in sleep where it is usually furrowed in anxiety or concentration. Jaebum doesn’t get to be like this often. He’s so busy working his ass off every day (practicing, performing, composing, you name it), coming home exhausted, but still keeping tabs on all of the younger members to make sure they’re okay. And Mark. Jaebum never forgets to worry about Mark, and while Mark is eternally grateful, it means that Jaebum never really has a spare moment to breathe. But when he’s asleep like this, he looks so content and calm.

 

Mark wishes he could give this ease to Jaebum every second of every day, but even if he could, Jaebum would never accept it. Mark still wishes, though, because that’s the least he can do for all that Jaebum has done for him.

 

 

 

 _i_.

 

The first time Jaebum saved him, they didn’t know each other yet. Sure, they were both trainees at JYP and sure, they had spoken a few times but they didn’t _know_ each other.

 

Mark was crossing the road to the convenience store, earphones in and trying to calm what he knew was an oncoming anxiety attack because everything was _too much_. It was too much all at once: the culture shock, the inability to communicate properly, the competitive trainees who just worsened his social anxiety, the relentless criticisms, the grueling hours of practice that were wearing down on his bones and muscles and throat and mind. It was suffocating. He couldn’t breathe in the practice rooms anymore, so, in a rare fit of rebellion, he left.

 

In the rising panic, he could barely walk steadily. He could feel the quickening of his breath and thudding of his heart and the blood pounding in his ears and the tears threatening to fall. He couldn’t hear anything around him, though; the voices inside his head were too loud, dominating his thoughts and ruining his perception of his surroundings. He’s guided mostly by muscle memory (the convenience store, the park by the river, and the dorms are the only places Mark really goes other than the JYP building), which some small part of his brain thanks because his vision is blurry, too. Somewhere, he thinks he hears someone calling his name—a “YAH! MARK!” that’s loud enough to cut through his music and his thoughts briefly but not enough for him to come to his senses—except it’s not like he’s close enough with any of the trainees for someone to come looking for him, so he imagines he must be hallucinating or something and keeps walking. Honestly, Mark knows he should be sitting right now, trying to calm himself down, but he doesn’t want to see that damn building and that desperation propels him forward, forward, _forward_ , until-

 

“MARK! _MARK!_ ” The shouts are closer now, close enough that they register through the haze of anxiety, and Mark has barely turned his head around to see who was calling out to him before he feels a strong hand take hold of his wrist and haul him to the side. He collides with a solid chest and feels arms being wrapped around his shoulders, jerking him away from the road. Mark nearly trips over his own feet from the force of the tug, but there’s a sturdy body that balances him. Only once he regains his footing does Mark see the car that speeds past where he is in the arms of… Im Jaebum?

 

Immediately, Mark springs back, bowing and murmuring hasty, broken apologies. He’s seen Jaebum around the company and is truthfully quite intimidated by Jaebum’s persona and skill level. Mark’s also heard stories about how Jaebum gets when he’s angry or frustrated, which just makes him more urgent in apologizing. Mark looks up and is met with Jaebum’s piercing stare, icy and forbidding. He’s expecting some kind of one-sided shouting match to start at this point and the fact that he troubled someone so much more talented than he is only adds to how shitty he’s feeling. Mark exhales a quiet sigh, feeling the vestiges of his anxiety attack curling around his brain, around his muddled thoughts of inadequacy, draining him of all energy.

 

There’s silence, for a bit, and in it Mark’s figuring out if there’s a chance of getting the hell out of there without Jaebum getting mad for being inconvenienced like this. Jaebum calls his name again. It’s softer this time, so much so that Mark is surprised into looking back up at Jaebum’s face. His gaze has thawed into one of concern as he asks, “Hey, are you okay?”

 

Mark’s default response to this question is a shaky grin, sometimes even a chuckle, and a “Yeah, I was just distracted. I’m fine.” But this time, his lips don’t move on autopilot to shape the syllables and his voice doesn’t make the sounds. The only thing Mark can do is stare. Because Mark is good at reading people and this is the first time he thinks that someone is asking him this question with actual worry. This is the first time he thinks that someone actually _cares_.

 

It registers in his brain that Mark doesn’t really _know_ Jaebum, though, so while he thinks there is a sliver of a chance that Jaebum will listen to him, he keeps his mouth shut.

 

Jaebum studies the defeat in Mark’s eyes and the discouragement in the slope of Mark’s shoulders and decides that he hates it. (Mark knows this because Jaebum told him later, much later when Jaebum had helped Mark build up his confidence piece by piece and this tidbit of information wouldn’t break Mark to hear.) Jaebum closes his hand around a thin wrist and starts to walk, pulling Mark along an unknown route.

 

They end up at a playground. Mark’s never been here before and they’re sitting on the swings. Mark feels like a kid again, kicking his legs half-heartedly as Jaebum, firmly rooted with his feet planted on the ground sipping on a strawberry milk, continues to study him.

 

“Talk.” Mark looks up and his legs stop carelessly swinging. Mark shifts his eyes away. He’s really not used to this, someone pushing their way in. Back home, he and his friends would sit in comfortable silence until they felt ready to talk. It also meant that, sometimes, if the comfort of his friend’s presence was enough to quell the storm, he would lock up whatever was bothering him until it came back bigger and stronger and finally broke his silence.

 

“I know something is bothering you. Tell me.” Mark still doesn’t speak. He can feel Jaebum’s eyes on him, waiting for a response, waiting for Mark to rant or cry or _do anything_ because really that’s what most people would do. Mark is still kind of numb, though, and he doesn’t really register much of anything besides the leftover ringing in his ears and the weight of Jaebum’s stare.

 

“Mark, _please_. Tell me what’s wrong!” The urgency in Jaebum’s voice jolts Mark from his stupor. Mark doesn’t know how long he hadn’t spoken for before Jaebum’s outburst, but he thinks it must’ve been a while because, behind the veil of annoyance, Jaebum actually looks a little bit scared, a little too distraught over Mark’s feelings for someone who barely knows him. Maybe he needs someone like this. Someone who’s willing to hear Mark talk, who will force Mark to talk, if not out of concern, then out of sheer curiosity. But they still barely know each other, so instead of divulging any of the dark thoughts that plague his mind, Mark counters, “Why do you care?”

 

(The way he says it isn’t sharp or cold or defensive. It’s murmured so softly Jaebum barely catches it and it sounds so beaten and confused that someone is actually asking Mark if he’s alright that Jaebum’s heart breaks a little.

It’s a good question. Jaebum didn’t know why he cared so much about Mark in particular when there were other trainees who had been there for longer, who looked more demoralized, who seemed to miss the comforts of home and a normal life more than Mark did. Jaebum speculated once, his fingers laced with Mark’s and his thumb ghosting over Mark’s knuckles, that perhaps the reason why he was so invested in Mark’s success was precisely because of how much Mark seemed to internalize everything and never wanted to be a burden by asking for help. It could have also been because he could tell Mark would be a star. Nobody works that hard with barely a noise of complaint without reaping the benefits of their efforts, and Mark was one of the hardest workers there. Jaebum still doesn’t know how to articulate it, the special aura he found radiating off of Mark, that still radiates off of him, like his own personal source of light.)

 

Mark risks a glance at Jaebum, who seems at a loss for words. Jaebum starts swinging then, maybe a little bored, maybe a little unsure, and it’s quiet again.

 

It’s starting to get a little chilly, but it doesn’t feel like the right time to head back, mostly because Jaebum hasn’t made a move to leave yet, and he was the one who brought Mark to the playground in the first place. He stops swinging, suddenly—Mark knows because the squeaky sound of the rusty metal links comes to a halt—and starts to speak.

 

“Hey,” Jaebum starts and Mark lifts his head up in question, a gesture for Jaebum to continue speaking.

 

“I know you’re probably feeling like you can’t do anything right because of all the corrections people keep giving you, but they only bother to nag the people they think have a shot, y’know? Like, they see something in you and want you to do better so that’s why it seems as if all the horrible shit they spew out never ends. Really, it’d be worse if they just ignored you and didn’t tell you to do anything because that would mean they aren’t paying attention to you and would let you go soon.”

 

Mark looks away then, bowing his head a little at the subtle compliment. What Jaebum’s saying theoretically makes sense, in the analytical part of his brain that functions solely on logic, but the emotion-run side doesn’t quite buy it, not with how all of the criticisms make Mark feel so helpless. And it’s not even just from their teachers too. That, he could take. But the other trainees who seem to have so many “kind-hearted” suggestions to make grate on Mark’s nerves even more because they’re probably right and they’re _better_ than he is.

 

As if reading Mark’s mind, Jaebum continues, “And the trainees who talk crap? They’re just jealous. They’re scared of you because you’re doing things they can’t dream to do. They watch you get better at dance and develop your martial arts tricking and improve your Korean, which is really the toughest barrier to your debut, in a way, and they’re scared. They know you’re becoming irreplaceable and that scares them. But they can’t stop your progress so the only thing they can do, the only thing they know how to do, is to try to make you feel bad about yourself. But think about it this way, they’re wasting their energy watching you instead of practicing, so you’re getting ahead more quickly, anyways.”

 

Mark snorts a little at that. Jaebum’s words are so uncharacteristically optimistic. (Mark realizes a few days later, when he accidentally stumbles upon a group of trainees complaining about why their teachers and the PD-nim all love Im Jaebum and how he doesn’t deserve the favoritism—they’re wrong, though, because Jaebum is undeniably amazing—that Jaebum probably has to tell himself the words he told Mark in order to keep pushing through, to keep training another day to reach his dreams.)

 

Jaebum looks relieved to have managed to make Mark laugh and he shoots a grin back.

 

“It’s hard, but don’t let everything get to your head. Just continue to work hard, yeah?”

 

Mark notes that Jaebum didn’t answer his question either, but he nods in thanks and understands the words left unspoken: _You can find me, if you need me, to talk or just sit or whatever. I believe in you._

 

It’s all Mark needs to keep going.

 

 

 

 _ii_. 

 

Today was a good day.

 

It was a lighter training day than usual because of evaluations and Mark and Jackson managed to get through their tricking and rapping routine without a hitch. They even got one of their stone-faced evaluators to crack a smile at their witticisms and fun performance.

 

Mark was feeling pretty satisfied with himself. He and Jaebum even went out for a meal because both of them were in high spirits. (Although, Jaebum did miss Yoo Youngjae coming back to see him, Jinyoung, and Sungjin, which was a pity—though later, Jaebum will say that there is nobody he’d rather spend time with than Mark.)

 

When Jaebum finally looks at his phone again after their meal, he sees all the texts from Youngjae, Jinyoung, and Sungjin asking where he is and sprints back to the company. Mark laughs as his friend’s hair flaps wildly in the wind in his hurry and Jaebum almost trips over the small incline as he tries to step onto the sidewalk across the street. And to think, people are terrified of Im Jaebum.

 

After every evaluation and training session, when Mark is back in his room at the dorms, he pulls out a little black leather notebook and jots down everything he needs to fix. Except, on his bad days—which, admittedly, are greater in number than most people’s—Mark will let his thoughts wander, and he starts writing and writing everything he feels in a mixture of Korean, because he needs to practice, and English, when he can’t find the right phrases to properly express how shitty he feels.

 

Except today, for once, when Mark pulls out his notebook, he doesn’t feel the need to write too much in it. Just a few lines, squeezed at the end of a page of a day he would really rather just forget ever happened, is all Mark needs to feel satisfied with today’s notes. He caps his pen and promptly crawls under his covers for a well-deserved nap.

 

Mark wakes up to the sound of a very familiar voice calling his name. He begrudgingly leaves the comfort of his blankets and his room to see Jaebum toeing off his shoes and shaking stray snowflakes from his hair.

 

“How was seeing Youngjae again?” Mark asks as he walks over.

 

“Good,” Jaebum answers as he shrugs off his jacket, “it was fun to catch up. Did you know he’s just debuted? I’m really happy for him. He really deserves it.”

 

 

 _You deserve it too_ , Mark thinks to himself. He can’t help but admire how sincere Jaebum is at his friend’s achievements. There is no trace of bitterness or envy when he speaks of Youngjae’s debut, just pride.

 

“Hey, do you wanna watch something?” Jaebum asks.

 

Mark rolls his eyes. “Do you mean ‘do you wanna watch _The Simpsons_ with me because nobody else is in the dorm right now and you’re the only person who will tolerate watching it’?”

 

“Maybe…” Jaebum answers sheepishly. He knows he’s gotten what he wanted, though, when Mark moves to set up the TV while grumbling, “I’m literally the best friend ever. I suffer through so much for everyone, damn.”

 

Jaebum whoops and fist pumps embarrassingly, but before his ass even lands on the couch, Mark turns to him with a glare and orders, “If we’re going to watch this show, we’re watching it in English with Korean subtitles. At least that way we both might be able to learn something. And can you get my blankets from my bed? I’m cold.” Mark says that last part with big doe eyes and a pleading voice, injecting just enough aegyo so that he knows Jaebum won’t be able to resist saying yes and Mark won’t have to lug all the blankets from his room. Jaebum visibly melts a little and promptly follows Mark’s instructions. He would smirk to himself in success, but Mark literally has no idea how to change the settings into what he wants because it’s usually Jaebum who does it and he’s struggling to get the subtitles to show up properly without breaking the entire TV.

 

After Mark finally conquers the captioning settings, he wonders, for a brief second, where the hell Jaebum is and why it’s taking so long to get the blankets, before he hears a crash. Mark knows that he and Jaebum are the only two currently in their dorm right now (the other trainees are making use of their freer day by heading into town for some shopping and partying), so he heads to his room to check on Jaebum, hoping he didn’t mistakenly leave his skateboard lying around for Jaebum to trip on.

 

When Mark gets to his room, he begins to ask, “Jaebum, are you alright?” but the words die on his lips when he sees his chair knocked over, his blankets in place, his skateboard nowhere in sight, and Jaebum standing by his desk, reading something.

 

It clicks into Mark’s head then, with a, _Fuck. Fuck oh my god FUCK I left my notebook out. Shit._ He’s honestly not even mad that Jaebum started to read the notebook in the first place, because he knows if he were in a friend’s room and saw something with their handwriting on it, he’d take a peek (mostly because, even though he looks like an angel, Mark Tuan is a devious little prankster and has some not-so-angelic blackmail thoughts running through his mind).

 

Mark doesn’t even think Jaebum has noticed that he’s there, so he approaches slowly and asks again, “Jaebum?”

 

At the sound of Mark’s voice, Jaebum whips his head around with, as expected, Mark’s notebook open in his palms. Now, there’s a running joke about Jaebum’s temper among the trainees. It’s not quite so funny while he’s mad, but after the fact, they teasingly call him “Im-Rage.” So Mark thought he knew what Jaebum was like angry, but the look in Jaebum’s eyes makes all of those other times seem like nothing.

 

Jaebum looks absolutely _furious_.

 

“Jaebum, listen-”

 

“What the ever-living _fuck_ is this?” Jaebum all but growls, snapping Mark’s notebook shut and shaking it a little for emphasis.

 

“I- It’s my notebook?” Mark stutters, trying to smile weakly.

 

Jaebum is having none of it, though, as he asks, “What the _fuck_ is all this _bullshit_ you’re saying about yourself?! You’re nothing compared to all of the other trainees? You should just pack your bags and go home? Nobody here even needs you anyway?!”

 

Jaebum’s voice gets louder with every syllable, and by the time he’s finished, he’s full-on shouting.

 

“It’s just how I feel sometimes…” Mark trails off, and Jaebum somehow manages to look even _more_ pissed.

 

“Yeah, but _why the hell_ would you _ever_ think _any_ of this?! That’s so _stupid_!”

 

Stupid. That word makes Mark snap. It’s not like Mark forced Jaebum to read his words and now Jaebum has the audacity to berate him and negate his feelings like this?

 

“I think this stuff because it’s true!” Mark retaliates. Jaebum’s eyebrows furrow and his mouth drops open and he looks so much like a fish right now it’d be hilarious, except Mark isn’t laughing. Instead, he presses on, “Every day I see trainees who can pick up dances more quickly and rap better than I can! And then there are the trainees who can do all of that and still go to school! What can I do? I came all the way to Korea after finishing only 10th grade and I’m terrified because I feel like I’m not improving and that I’ve wasted all of this time while all my friends back home are moving forward with their lives and going to college!”

 

Mark doesn’t know when he started crying but he can feel tears dripping down his cheeks and his nose feels a little bit stuffy and he doesn’t cry when he’s angry or frustrated, but all of that has been repressed and condensed into a ticking time bomb of fear and crippling grief for all that he’s missed back home and it’s suffocating. He can barely breathe, but now that the words have started coming out, they won’t stop.

 

“And as for nobody needing me? Why do you think I’m so quiet? Because when I talk, people don’t listen to me anyways. If I start, everyone speaks over me because they think I have nothing valuable to say, then they make fun of me for being mute. So, what am I supposed to think? That people here care about me? About what I think or how I feel?”

 

Mark is taking in heaving breaths now and he keeps hiccuping in between his words and he _hates_ that he just let all of this tumble out. Nobody’s supposed to know that he feels this way. He’s supposed to be strong enough to pick up the pieces of himself and put them back where they belong, back where they broke off from. It’s been him against the world for as long as he’s been in Korea—nobody’s supposed to need Mark and Mark isn’t supposed to need anyone either. So why does being around Jaebum make him want to bare his entire heart?

 

Mark starts to turn on his heel, to leave, to be anywhere but here, where somebody now knows, the thought of which makes him want to hide in embarrassment. He barely takes a step when he’s being hauled back and spun around, crashing into a solid chest and being held in a vice grip. Jaebum buries his face in the crook of Mark’s neck and when did Jaebum start crying?

 

They stand there like that, Mark limp in Jaebum’s arms, until Jaebum calms down his shaky breaths, grasps Mark’s shoulders in his hands, looks Mark dead in the eyes, and says the words Mark never thought he’d hear in Korea.

 

“You’re my best friend, Mark. _I_ need you.”

 

 

 

 _iii_.

 

This is it. They’ve done it. _He’s_ done it. Mark Tuan has finally debuted in a wonderful band of brothers dubbed GOT7.

 

Yes, they have music shows and pre-recordings and photoshoots and all sorts of other commitments lined up for tomorrow, but none of the boys can bring themselves to care about their busy schedules tonight. Even their managers turn a blind eye to the drinks they attempt to sneak into the dorm and let them celebrate their debut.

 

Somewhere between Youngjae belting Girls Girls Girls at the top of his lungs for the fifth time and Bambam clinging to Yugyeom like a koala, Mark notices that their leader has disappeared. Pouting because he’s lost his favorite pillow, Mark goes to the only place he thinks Jaebum could have gone.

 

He finds Jaebum lying on the roof, head resting on clasped hands and eyes staring into the starry night sky. The door to the roof of their dorm is creaky, so Jaebum knows when Mark comes up. He moves one hand from under his head and stretches his arm out, right where Mark can rest his head. An invitation.

 

Mark snuggles into Jaebum, who murmurs, “How do you feel?”

 

“Happy…” Mark hesitates, “but nervous.” Jaebum doesn’t say anything, but Mark knows that Jaebum isn’t ignoring him, just waiting for more. Mark elaborates, “For how long will we be GOT7? So many groups splinter after a few years, sometimes even shorter… how long will this last?”

 

“GOT7 will last a long time, Mark. I just know it. We’ll have so many fans who love us that breaking up won’t ever be an option.”

 

Mark snorts, “I’m sure we’ll get fans, I mean, we have Jackson after all, and they’ll love him. I don’t… I don’t know if people will like me, though… and if they do, for how long?”

 

Truthfully, Mark isn’t as worried about the opinions of the thousands of unknown faces he knows will consume what GOT7 produce as much as he’s worried about what his members will think of him later on. Will they realize that Mark’s the weak link? Will they resent him later on? Will they wish they had someone else—maybe Brian, who can dance and rap as well as Mark can, who’s also fluent in English, who can already compose his own pieces, who has the voice of an angel—take Mark’s spot? They may be best friends now, but will Jaebum, as the leader, think all of this if GOT7 isn’t as successful as they all hope to be?

 

Mark whispers into Jaebum’s skin, “How long will we last, Jaebum-ah?”

 

He sighs and shuts his eyes. (He can’t see, then, the way Jaebum turns to look at him with such profound sadness. It’s been years of them being best friends, and yet, Jaebum still hasn’t been able to prove to Mark how special he is? How easy he is to love wholeheartedly? How much value he adds to the lives of everyone he meets? By that point, Jaebum had known for quite some time what Mark meant to him. He was always so scared, though, because Mark seemed as distant as the stars, and so protective of his mistreated heart. But, that night, hearing Mark’s words, Jaebum doesn’t know what else to do to show Mark how much he cares, so he decides to lay his own heart on the line.)

 

“As long as we’re breathing, it’ll last. I’ll make it last.”

 

Mark wonders at the finality with which Jaebum makes his declaration, “How can you be so sure?”

 

Jaebum doesn’t respond immediately, so Mark lets his mind and gaze drift back up to the sky. He thinks he can vaguely feel Jaebum’s heart start pounding, though, from where his hand is lying on Jaebum’s chest, but he doesn’t think much of it. Mark is too absorbed in trying to imagine GOT7’s future—he dreams of touring all over the world, of selling out huge stadiums and going back to the US greeted by crowds of cheering fans, of becoming so close to his bandmates that they would all rather die than lose each other.

 

“Mark, look at me for a sec?”

 

He shifts his head a little bit so that he makes eye contact with Jaebum. In Jaebum’s eyes Mark can see a hint of uncertainty, like he’s about to make a decision he might regret, and Mark is about to open his mouth ask what’s wrong when Jaebum closes his eyes and surges forward, sealing Mark’s lips with his own.

 

When Jaebum pulls back, Mark is blushing furiously, but he can’t help smiling in awe at one of the few people who have managed to root themselves into Mark’s heart.

 

“That’s how I know we’ll last forever.”

 

 

 

 _iv_.

 

Variety shows tire Mark out.

 

It’s not being _on_ them that exhausts him, he knows, because he loves getting caught up in the moment with his friends. He always laughs his ass off while they’re filming and it’s a surprisingly relaxing break in their physically taxing schedules of practicing and performing.

 

No, it’s the aftermath that Mark hates.

 

After the cameras stop rolling and the boys are tucked into their van, driving off towards their next destination, is the part Mark hates the most. Nobody can stop him from replaying different scenes over and over again in his head, picking apart things he wishes he could change and analyzing things he wishes he could unsee.

 

Images keep playing on repeat in his mind that he’s powerless to stop. Mark doesn’t close his eyes because he knows that doing so will only enable him to focus on those images even more, when all he wants to do is forget. Not even the loud banter of his members is enough to pull him back to the present like it sometimes is, so Mark sighs to himself, puts his earbuds in, and stares out the window, watching the scenery blur by and waiting for the storm in his mind to pass.

 

They get back to their dorm and Mark makes a beeline for his room. It’s not a strange occurrence by any means, so after he shuts himself away after toeing off his shoes at the front door, nobody really questions it. (Nobody except for Jaebum, who, from the rear view mirror, had watched Mark the entire ride home. He’d seen the furrowed brows and the faraway gaze of Mark’s eyes and he’d known something was wrong. He’d watched Mark retreating into his room and wanted so desperately to follow but then Bambam and Yugyeom started tugging on his arms and he couldn’t dump them with Jinyoung because he and Jackson were in their own little world and Youngjae had gone straight to a voice lesson so all Jaebum could do was watch Mark disappear.)

 

Mark burrows under his covers and grabs one of his Pikachus to hold close to his stomach as he tries to nap his thoughts away.

 

When Mark wakes up a little later, the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is Jaebum sitting on the floor, fiddling with his phone. Mark thinks Jaebum must be psychic or something because a second later, he’s lifting his head up from the screen and meeting Mark’s eyes across the room. For a brief moment, the corners of Jaebum’s lips raise in a soft smile before it’s gone and Jaebum is asking him if he’s okay.

 

(Mark will later learn that the smile was because Jaebum doesn’t usually get to see Mark wake up and the sight of his slightly swollen face and tousled hair momentarily overrode the concern Jaebum felt for him that day.)

 

“I’m just a little tired.”

 

“You looked like you were thinking a lot when we were in the car…. Are you sure nothing’s bothering you? You know you can tell me anything.”

 

Mark hums because he _does_ know that. He knows he could tell Jaebum anything and never be judged for it, but this little green devil that consumes his thoughts when he sees Jaebum with someone who isn’t him is his problem, and his alone.

 

He closes his eyes again. Mark can picture clearly the images that were plaguing his mind after they finished filming and all the thoughts that came with them. Mark can see Jaebum walking over to Jackson, one hand on Jackson’s chest and the other grasping his shoulder to keep him in place, then Jackson wrapping his legs around Jaebum and they are now wound so tightly together they look like they are one. Mark can see Jaebum watching Jinyoung imitate Bambam at the airport with so much affection it dredges up the knowledge of how deep the bond between Jaebum and Jinyoung runs, of how they have shared everything together, from their trainee days to JJ Project, and now to GOT7. Mark can see Youngjae hanging from Jaebum’s arm, trying to use Jaebum as a shield, and remembers how often Jaebum dotes on Youngjae, soothing and reassuring and playfully referring to themselves as the main vocal couple. Mark can see Jaebum dancing with Bambam and Yugyeom, fooling around so energetically and lightheartedly in a way only the maknaes can pull from him.

 

Mark sighs.

 

Jaebum hops up onto Mark’s bed and guides Mark’s head to rest on his shoulders. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t push Mark to respond, but Mark knows that Jaebum is waiting.

 

“It’s kind of stupid,” he mutters.

 

“Nothing that bothers you is ever stupid.” (And Jaebum has taught himself, since the day he fought with Mark about it, that even if something seems unwarranted to him, it might not be to Mark. Everything Mark feels is brought upon by something—every emotion has a reason that Jaebum should hear because it deserves to be heard.)

 

Another sigh.

 

“It’s just… whenever we record, you seem closer to everyone else,” Mark mumbles into Jaebum’s shirt, embarrassed. The “and not me” goes unspoken, but is immediately understood.

 

Jaebum takes Mark’s hands into his, playing with them as he thinks of a response.

 

(Because it’s true and Jaebum knows it because he’s the one who makes it happen. The other members are safe. They’re his closest friends and he can be loud and hyper and childlike with them when the situation allows them to be because he knows they won’t care and nothing will come of it. Jaebum lets himself reach out to them because he knows the fans will eat it up when he does and he knows he’ll be able to stop himself if lines need to be drawn. But with Mark, it’s different. He’s so scared to reach for Mark when the cameras are rolling because he knows once he does, he won’t want to let go. He’ll want to keep Mark for himself and not let anyone else get close enough to touch and he’ll get so overwhelmed with everything Mark is and all that Mark makes him feel that everything GOT7 and their company have worked so hard to achieve will have been for naught. It hurts Jaebum so much to keep himself away from Mark, but the fear of scandal and the responsibility he feels for the success of six other humans—without even considering all of the people who work behind the scenes—keep him paralyzed from holding Mark close in front of prying eyes.)

 

A bit of time has elapsed, and in it, Mark has already begun to relax. Some of the tension has bled out of his shoulders and the chaos in his mind has quelled. Next to Jaebum, Mark focuses on the way Jaebum’s body feels pressed next to his and the way Jaebum smells so uniquely of himself and the way Jaebum’s heart beats steadily in his chest and nothing else seems to matter so much.

 

When Jaebum speaks, his voice is soft and gentle and Mark knows he’ll never tire of hearing its lilting tones.

 

“Maybe it looks like that on camera, but- hey, Mark, look at me, yeah?”

 

Mark tilts his head up, so he meets Jaebum’s gaze. Mark can see Jaebum’s heart in his eyes—fondness shines through his irises and Mark doesn’t know how but he can _feel_ affection pouring out of every cell in Jaebum’s body as Jaebum’s hands lift to cup Mark’s face.

 

“ _You’re_ the one I’m in love with. Remember that.”

 

They say that they love each other on broadcast all the time because it’s true. You love your friends and you’re always there to back them up and GOT7 are nothing if not the very best of friends. But this is the first time Jaebum has ever said he was _in love_ with Mark. It’s the first time Jaebum has ever said those words to Mark when they have been alone by themselves, when they are not just bandmates Mark-and-Jaebum, but boyfriends Mark-and-Jaebum.

 

Mark is floored. He didn’t know that Jaebum felt as strongly about him. Mark knows his reply, has known it for a while now. So he says it.

 

“I’m in love with you too.”

 

 

 

 _v_.

 

It’s gotten easier, over the years, being so far away from his family. The sharp pangs of longing occur less and less frequently, although Mark will always yearn for the sunshine of LA and the laidback nature of home.

 

His homesickness comes in waves. Sometimes, they are small, little waves, barely enough to rock a boat. Other times, a tidal wave crashes into the city of his heart and he breaks.

 

This time, it’s a tsunami.

 

They’re in a hotel in a city Mark can’t remember. He and Jaebum are sharing a room—the times they let themselves do this are few and far between, but they craved this solace more strongly than usual during this trip, so they caved—and one of the beds is empty. Mark is propped up on a few pillows, his back against the headrest and phone illuminating his face. Jaebum has long since fallen asleep next to Mark, his nose nestled in Mark’s stomach.

 

His phone vibrates with a notification. It’s a text from Joey and he opens it with a smile. Attached are photos of a wedding and the text bubble at the end of the series of pictures reads, “We wish you could’ve come!” His heart twinges with guilt. Grace has just gotten married to Patricia and he couldn’t be there for his older sister and her partner, both of whom he adores. Two realizations hit when he examines the pictures and sees the pure, unadulterated joy in their faces.

 

The first is that he is missing so much in the lives of everyone he left behind. He couldn’t be there when Joey realized that he was in love for the first time or when Kylie and Leila started needing help with their homework and he feels like he doesn’t truly know the people his childhood friends have become in his years-long absence from their lives. He’s proud of everything that he’s been able to accomplish, and he’s even more proud to be a member of GOT7, but sometimes he wonders what it would be like if he didn’t drop everything at the age of 16 to fly to Seoul on what could’ve been a bed of empty promises. He doesn’t ever regret it, though, because leaving home for South Korea led him to the meet the best group of people he could’ve ever met. And, of course, Jaebum.

 

The second realization is that, as long as South Korea remains this conservative and as long as they want GOT7 to prosper (and they’ll _always_ want GOT7 to continue to grow and expand their reach), Mark and Jaebum can’t have what Grace and Patricia can. Their love will never be legitimate in the eyes of the government or even accepted by the majority of the people here, where the public opinion of GOT7 and its members is the most important to the well-being of the band. Mark would never place his own happiness over his members’. They are too important and too precious for him to be that selfish, and he knows Jaebum feels the same way. He’s so _tired_ sometimes, though, of hiding how much he loves Jaebum from the world when it’s something he takes pride in because, unquestionably, loving Im Jaebum has made Mark Tuan a better person.

 

He dreams of a world where he can have it all. Where he can go back to LA as often as he wants while still taking part in all of GOT7’s schedules. Where he can interlace his fingers with Jaebum’s and they can cuddle and kiss for everyone to see but nobody gives a damn because they’re happy.

 

Mark doesn’t know when he started crying, but his heart _aches_ with how desperately he wishes his fantasies could become real.

 

He hears Jaebum shuffling awake, and it’s only then when Mark realizes how much he’d been trembling as he’d tried to stifle his sobs.

 

(When Jaebum stirs awake, he looks at Mark through droopy eyes. Seeing Mark crying is not what he was expecting and the heart wrenching sight instantaneously cuts through the residual fog of sleep and Jaebum is on high alert. He then spots Mark’s phone, gripped tightly in Mark’s hands where they rest in his lap, and sees the pictures that are still open. Jaebum recognizes Grace from the times they’ve met and from all the photographs Mark has shown him of the Tuan family and it’s not hard to tell that they’re at a wedding. Jaebum sees Grace at the alter in a suit, holding hands with another girl in a stunning white dress and his heart splinters even more because he just _knows_ what Mark was thinking. Jaebum would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it too—what it would be like if he could marry Mark and everyone just accepted it the way they accept that the sky is blue—and been torn apart because he knows it’s something he and Mark may never be able to have. He doesn’t say anything, because there isn’t much he _can_ say to make Mark feel better. Instead,)

 

Jaebum pulls Mark down, so it’s no longer Mark’s lower back resting against the pillows, but his head. Jaebum draws Mark even closer and fits Mark’s head under his chin. Jaebum doesn’t speak, and for that Mark is eternally grateful. He’s always appreciated that about Jaebum, how he knows when to ask Mark what’s wrong and when to just let Mark be. Mark thinks that if Jaebum had said anything at all in that moment, even it was just sweet nothings in an attempt to comfort Mark, he would break down all over again. Instead, Mark loses himself in the feeling of Jaebum peppering the top of his head with gentle kisses and the way Jaebum holds him close, running a soothing hand up and down his spine.

 

After Mark has calmed down, Jaebum presses a final kiss to the top of Mark’s head and tells him to get dressed. Jaebum is out of the bed the next second, pulling on layers and then he’s out the door, as if in search of something. Mark is beyond confused, but he does as Jaebum says and waits for the door to open again.

 

When Jaebum comes back, there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. Mark thinks he sees the flash of car keys as he approaches warily. Before he even has a chance to protest, Jaebum is tugging at his arm and whispering, “Come on!”

 

They’re heading out of the lobby the next minute, towards the car Mark knows the managers rented for the duration of this trip and maybe Mark should feel more apprehension or dread when Jaebum unlocks the doors and tells Mark to get in, but he doesn’t. He has absolutely no idea where Jaebum is planning on taking him, but Mark trusts Jaebum enough to rest his head against his seat and let himself doze off.

 

(Jaebum sees Mark sound asleep when he turns to look during a red light. Jaebum knows how emotionally exhausting crying can be—everybody does, to be honest—and he’s glad Mark’s thoughts have calmed enough for Mark to rest.)

 

The next thing Mark knows, he’s being shaken awake by Jaebum, who tells him, “We’re here.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and steps outside. Mark is hit by the salty smell of the ocean and hears the waves lap against the shore. Just like home.

 

Jaebum appears at his side, then. He smiles a soft smile, the one Mark knows is just for him, holds his hand out, and beams, “Let’s go.”

 

So they charge towards the sea and Mark feels freer than he has in a long time.

 

He carves his name and Jaebum’s in the sand with a stick. The waves wash the letters away, but Mark knows the Earth will remember this declaration of love and the air will ring with all that he feels for Jaebum with every beat of his heart and that’s enough.

 

 

 

 _∞_.

 

A rush of affection surges through Mark as the memories flood in. Mark gently brushes Jaebum’s hair from his face and kisses his eyelids. He’s stroking his thumb across Jaebum’s cheekbone when another flash of lightning strikes and Jaebum’s eyes flutter open.

 

“Why are you up?” Jaebum mumbles as he nuzzles his cheek into Mark’s palm.

 

“The storm woke me up,” Mark hums in reply, “but I’m not surprised you slept through it.”

 

Jaebum pouts a little at Mark’s teasing remark but his gaze turns tender as they continue to stare at each other. (Memories play back in Jaebum’s mind, too, when he takes in Mark’s features. He wonders what he did in a past life to deserve an angel gracing his presence in this one as he recounts all of the times Mark has made Jaebum smile again when he thought his world was falling apart, has provided nothing but comfort and a safe haven to retreat to when Jaebum was anxious and terrified, has made sure the entire weight of the world wasn’t on Jaebum’s shoulders alone.)

 

“I love you, Jaebum.”

 

(Jaebum can’t say he’s surprised to hear the words come out of Mark’s mouth, breaking the comfortable silence, because he can see that memories are running through Mark’s mind as well.)

 

“I love you too, Mark.”

 

(And Jaebum means it with every fiber of his being. He loves the way Mark makes him feel: special but ordinary all at once. Mark doesn’t act like he expects Jaebum to hold the answers to every question about their future in his hands, Mark doesn’t expect Jaebum to know what he’s doing every second of every day, Mark doesn’t expect Jaebum to be perfectly in control all the time, and it’s a relief from the way everyone else expects Jaebum to be this perfect, infallible leader. Yet, Mark never fails to make Jaebum feel like he can conquer the world, if only he wanted to, and would have Mark’s unwavering support every step of the way.)

 

Jaebum’s voice is still laced with sleep as he says, “Go back to bed… you’ve been so tired lately.”

 

Mark nods and shifts so that he’s more comfortable. He’s facing away from Jaebum with one hand under the pillow and the other lying on top of it, near his head. He can hear Jaebum shifting positions as well and then he feels Jaebum wrapping an arm around his waist. Jaebum’s hand moves up and down the empty space in front of Mark’s stomach, searching.

 

“Let me hold your hand,” Jaebum whines against Mark’s shoulder.

 

“Okay, okay,” Mark laughs as he moves the hand lying on top of his pillow down, entwining his fingers with Jaebum’s.

 

Jaebum smiles against his shoulder and squeezes his hand for a moment before Jaebum’s eyelashes brush against Mark’s nape and his breathing evens out against Mark’s back.

 

Mark knows their hands will still be clasped when they wake up in the morning.

 

Jaebum has never let go (and never will).

**Author's Note:**

> the second time is partly inspired by the infinite myungyeol fic “[sparks fly up](http://penny-lane-42.livejournal.com/294378.html)” (one of my fave fics, makes me cry every time pls read it) and by the multitude of moments when Mark can’t speak his mind even though he wants to or when people ignore what he’s saying :/
> 
> i might do this unintentionally anyways, but for this fic i actively tried repeating images/scenes with different variations so lmk if you like that or if you even noticed it at all or if you thought it got too repetitive!
> 
> also lmk if how you felt about the shifts in time/perspective (i tried to make it not as confusing by putting when it happened in parentheses but those moments probably still disrupted the flow a lot)
> 
> as always, thanks so much for reading!!! please leave comments/kudos if you liked it & talk to me on [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/rewindmp3) (@rewindmp3) if u want (i’m more responsive there) ♡


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